


On the Line

by OneWhoSitsWithTurtles



Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Anal Sex, Apologies, Blow Jobs, Drumline - Freeform, Drums, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Falling In Love, First Kiss, Football, Hurt/Comfort, Kissing, M/M, Rutting, Second Chances
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-09
Updated: 2015-01-29
Packaged: 2018-03-06 19:24:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 20,929
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3145757
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OneWhoSitsWithTurtles/pseuds/OneWhoSitsWithTurtles
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Eames is the quarterback for his college football team. Competitive by nature, Eames has a habit of flirting with any male opponents to make them flustered and lose their game. Eames realizes that he might've underestimated the competition when he collides with Arthur, centre snare drummer of their rival college's drumline. Despite Eames' attempts, Arthur remains unfazed. Eames, however, might just end up questioning everything he ever believed about love, life, and himself.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Notes: Inspired by my visit to a drum corps competition, and by the movie "Drumline" 
> 
> Rating and some Tags refer to later chapters.

"So do you know his name yet?" Eames stood beside Dom, scanning the crowds of passing spectators and college students alike. The first football game of the school year was being held at their college's stadium, Eames and Dom similarly decked out in Almira College's colours; deep red and black. Eames was already in his football clothes – wanting to look good as the college's quarterback – and Dom was readjusting a strap on his military-style uniform for the drumline.

 

"I've been told his name is Arthur," Dom informed him, finished fiddling with his uniform and sweeping his eyes across the crowd as well. Dom was centre snare drummer for Almira's drumline but his drum would remain safely stowed in the change rooms until halftime and their performance was approaching. "Sophomore, from what I hear."

 

"They made a sophomore the centre snare?" Eames snorted. "They must be desperate."

 

"That's what everyone said last year when they made you quarterback as a sophomore," Dom reminded him. "Maybe you shouldn't underestimate this kid."

 

"All he needs is a bit of flirting from me and he'll be tripping over himself on the field, just like everyone else," Eames smirked. "It would be unfair if I kept him from my tradition."

 

"Or for once you could leave the competition alone," Dom sighed, slipping his fingers through his hair as he watched more people filing into the stadium stands. It wouldn't be long now before everyone had to clear the field, and before Eames had to join the rest of his team for final stretches before the game. Still, he had some time.

 

"I just have a little fun. It's not my fault if they can't handle it and get flustered," Eames said as he headed for one of the tunnels leading off the field and into the building of the stadium. He had noticed some kids in bright blue and white uniforms – a telltale sign for Almira's rival, Crown State College –walking by the tunnel entrance.

 

Inside the stadium there were hundreds of people all milling about and Eames struggled to keep the blue and white marching uniforms in view as he pushed through people buying food and looking for their seating section. Eames didn't know what Arthur looked like but he knew marching band members stuck close together before performances. By the stadium change rooms designated for visiting players Eames found a larger selection of blue and white, and he was about to ask someone to point him in the direction of Arthur when a boy caught his attention.

 

A short distance away from the other Crown State kids all knit together in groups chatting before the game began was a boy tucked away in a corner. He had pale skin and black hair he had slicked back away from his eyes. His military-style uniform of blue and white was on, crisp and pressed as it clung to the shape of the boy's lean frame; only the uniform's hat was missing, though Eames was grateful for this since he doubted he could keep a straight face looking at this ridiculously serious student in a funny feathered hat.

 

As Eames pushed through the crowds and got a full view of the Crown State student Eames could see the snare drum strapped to his front. The boy wielded his drumsticks but was not tapping out a beat. His hands merely twitched minutely as his lips muttered an inaudible rhythm. Eames knew he could be wrong, but he couldn't imagine anyone better suiting the role of nervous sophomore center snare drummer on his first away game.

 

Eames strode right up to the boy, undeterred when brown eyes remained fixed ahead and did not react to follow Eames' approach. Eames leaned against the concrete wall, beside the boy and well within his personal space. He watched silently for a few moments, watching the barely-noticeable twitch of the drumsticks and the movement of those narrow lips. Then, after a short while and getting rather bored of being ignored, Eames cleared his throat. "Arthur, I presume," he purred, leaning a bit closer.

 

The boy paused. Eames expected him to relax his hands but instead the boy began his minute drumming again. However, those brown eyes did glance marginally to the side, just enough to catch Eames' gaze. "Can I help you?"

 

"Are you Arthur?" Eames asked. Not that it wasn't fun flirting in general – Eames had created quite a past-time out of flirting with the boys of rival schools to watch them squirm and fumble – but he didn't have enough time to flirt with every member of the rival team before he had to return to his own team. "The sophomore centre snare?" he added, deepening the purr of his voice.

 

Arthur barely blinked. "That would be me, yes."

 

"Well isn't it your lucky day," Eames leaned close enough that he knew Arthur could feel his warm breath against his jaw and ear. It was so easy for Eames to do this, to whisper teasing words in boys' ears. Eames had had his fair share of male lovers and the flirting stage was, in his opinion, the most enjoyable part. Whether his rival targets actually surmised that he was gay or not didn't matter to Eames; he was just trying to put them out-of-sorts long enough to lose the game.

 

"How so," Arthur asked, though he didn't sound interested enough to voice it as a question.

 

Looking down, Eames could see that Arthur had begun practicing his drumming again, drumsticks moving against the air on either side of the drum, and Eames knew he would have to try harder. "I happen to have a thing for talented men," he informed Arthur, resting his hand on Arthur's hip.

 

This close Eames could see the way Arthur's jaw clenched as he tensed, but Arthur didn't pull away. He was a stubborn one, unwilling to back down. Eames felt his determination mounting along with his impatience. "I'm not interested," Arthur said stiffly. The drumsticks still twitched on.

 

"What's a little fun between rivals? I could make you feel good," Eames leaned closer again, in danger now of brushing his lips against Arthur's jaw. His hand traveled up to Arthur's waist and finally Eames got a response. In a sharp movement Arthur held both drumsticks with one hand and dropped his other hand to grip Eames' wrist. Arthur said nothing but the grip was painful and Eames had to hide his wince as he pulled his hand away. Luckily Arthur let him withdraw.

 

Not wanting to cower away and admit defeat, Eames shrugged with easy nonchalance and slipped a piece of paper from beneath his cuff that he had already prepared with his name and phone number. Still far beyond Arthur's personal boundaries Eames slotted the piece of paper beneath the silver decorative shoulder pad of Arthur's marching uniform. "You can call me if you change your mind."

 

Arthur had returned to staring straight ahead and he was again holding out his drumsticks, mentally practicing. It was like Arthur barely registered him. Eames had been turned down before – many times, in fact – and he was accustomed to shrugging it off. Especially since this was all for fun anyway to tease his competition. However, Eames did _not_ enjoy being ignored and with a sudden rush of anger Eames was crowding Arthur aggressively against the wall.

 

"You should've stayed home today," Eames whispered, his voice still low but no longer welcoming. "Maybe you could've saved a sliver of your pride. Enjoy losing."

 

"I don't think I'm the one that's losing," Arthur whispered back, voice sharp but calm.

 

Eames gritted his teeth, pulling back. There wasn't even a hint of a blush on Arthur's pale cheeks. "We'll see what happens on the field," Eames promised and then turned on his heel, heading for his own team's change rooms to cool off before the game. His plan had undoubtedly backfired.

 

#

 

The buzzer was sounded for halftime and Eames collapsed gratefully onto his team's bench on the sidelines of the stadium field. The Almira Rangers had kicked ass during the first half of the game; it would take a miracle for Crown State to catch up, let alone beat them. Eames was feeling very pleased with himself, knowing his team was going to beat Arthur's team. Although Eames had managed to calm himself down enough to focus on the game, he couldn't fight the smug satisfaction at knowing he would end up being right about winning over Arthur.

 

He drank deeply from his water bottle as he watched the Almira Vanguard – their college's marching band – stepping out onto the field in formation. Eames could just imagine Arthur standing in one of the entrance tunnels for the stadium with the rest of his drumline and band; he would probably be quaking in his white boots once he watched Almira's marching band – and Dom, Arthur's direct competition – perform. The thought left Eames grinning all through Almira's performance as the audience was struck by a wall of sound filled with brass and drums.

 

Eames knew the Almira Vanguard was as skilled as the Almira football team; he had watched Dom practice many times during the summer since they were such close friends from freshman year. Many summer days had gone by when Eames and Mal – Dom's girlfriend – watched Dom practice, or Dom and Mal watched Eames practice before they all went out to their favourite restaurant on campus for dinner. Still, it was impressive watching the Vanguards giving it their all and holding nothing back.

 

Eames clapped and cheered along with everyone else as the band finished up and moved to the sidelines, offering up the field for the Crown State Cadets. Eames searched the sea of blue and white, looking to see if Arthur was still among his band or if he had bailed. He was still there though, standing tall at the centre of his drumline. Eames had to admire him for that; at least Arthur wouldn't leave his team to flounder alone, even if the defeat would be brutal.

 

The Cadets began their prepared performance and as the minutes passed by Eames felt his jaw slackening and dropping open. Against his will Eames' body began to sway to the beat, and he noticed that something similar was happening to the rest of his team as well as every spectator in the stand. The music filling the stadium was catchy and bold and the choreography was perfectly rehearsed. Eames caught himself wishing vaguely that he was high in the stands so he could see the formations being created on the field.

 

Eames found himself again seeking Arthur out in the crowd, wondering how the sophomore was holding up. Was he hiding amongst the rest of his team, letting the more experienced drummers lead, or was he actually performing adequately? Eames found himself oddly disappointed when he couldn't catch more than a glimpse of the centre snare as he moved around the field with the rest of his drumline. It looked like his footwork and drumming skills were good but it was hard to tell from afar.

 

The performance ended with an overwhelming crescendo of sound and Eames had to consciously stop himself from clapping and cheering a second time. The rest of his football team muttered to each other on the bench, showing their displeasure at having their school's band shown up. Apparently someone else had felt similarly because the Cadets were only halfway off the field when an announcer called for a drumline showdown.

 

The rest of the Cadets peeled away, heading for the sidelines, while two rows of blue and white – the drumline – remained in place. Eames could see Dom readjusting the strap of his own snare drum and walking down his line, likely calling out a routine they had prepared for these sorts of situations. Then Dom led the two rows of red and black across the field to meet Arthur at the fifty yard mark.

 

Eames couldn't understand why he was so nervous.

 

The drummers were close enough now and not hidden by the rest of the marching band so Eames could make everyone out. Dom and the Vanguards started the showdown and Eames watched their footwork and drumming carefully. He wasn't a skilled musician but he had seen Dom and others practice at college enough to know what was good versus bad drumming and showmanship. And as the Almira drumline completed their routine and Eames heard the crowd cheering with excitement he knew there was no way Crown State could win.

 

And then... Eames was proven wrong. The beat Arthur's drumline brought to life took hold of Eames' heart and controlled his heartbeat, leaving him captive as they stole the stadium's attention. Their movements were sleek and practiced but not flashy; there was something so simple and elegant about the way they moved. Eames would almost swear that the drumline was one person based on how in sync they were. The crowd was roaring its approval.

 

Not ready to back down, Dom took a step forward, singling himself out from his drumline and calling out Arthur in return for a direct challenge. Arthur took one step forward to match Dom's approach, not going an inch further. It was clear that Arthur would not start a challenge, but also wouldn't ignore one that was thrust upon him.

 

Dom began his solo and it was impressive but Eames was unable to tear his eyes from Arthur. He watched the boy who looked so much less like a young inexperienced sophomore and so much more like a man deserving respect and awe as he stood patiently and waited for Dom to finish. Dom received cheers for his performance but it was obvious to everyone when Arthur began his response who would be the winner.

 

Eames had never seen faster drumming skills in his life, each move planned and precise, and each strike of the drumstick to Arthur's drum had Eames energized and burning with a fire he didn't recognize. There was a pregnant pause of silence when Arthur completed his solo, the stadium echoing as the entire audience awaited more – _wished_ for more – and then Arthur moved to hold his drumsticks in resting position. And without any final word from the announcer, Arthur turned from Dom and his whole drumline followed him. Loyal, because _hell_ , why wouldn't they follow someone that skilled? As one the snares, tenor and bass drums, and the cymbals all followed Arthur to the sidelines to rejoin the rest of their band.

 

The cheers in the stadium were deafening but Eames was suddenly mute to it all, realizing with a start that Arthur had led his drumline to the sidelines closest to Eames' team sitting by the benches. The rest of the drumline marched past Eames in a disciplined row and Eames could only vaguely take note of Dom leading his own drumline away before Eames' attention was recaptured as Arthur approached and paused in front of Eames.

 

Arthur didn't turn to look at Eames, standing sideways in front of him, but he was close enough that Eames could see his face. Arthur was sweaty and flushed – his performance drawing far more blood to his cheeks than Eames' flirting had accomplished. But what Eames noticed most was the tight line of Arthur's mouth and the brightness of his eyes when they finally slanted sideways to watch him. "Perhaps I am not the one who needed to be worried about their pride," Arthur said quietly. There was no smirk on his lips, his expression neutral. But Eames knew he was being taught a lesson.

 

Oddly, instead of wanting to punch Arthur in the face, Eames wanted to pin him to the field turf and fuck him raw.

 

Eames felt his body flushing with the angry arousal filling him, but the moment passed and Arthur was already continuing on to rejoin his band, his performance well displayed. Eames watched Arthur blend back into his group and calmly exit the field, and it took one of Eames' teammates shaking his shoulder to remind him that they still had another half of the football game to complete before Eames could go home and jerk off to release tension.

 

#

 

They won the football game but Eames didn't feel like the victor. His body felt worn and heavy as he dragged himself off the field and headed for the change rooms, ready to peel off his sweaty football uniform and change back into normal clothes. He was especially ready to head back to the apartment he shared with Dom and Mal so he could fall into bed and not leave for the rest of the day.

 

Regardless of his initial plans, when Dom informed him in the change rooms that he was interested in going over to meet Arthur in person, Eames immediately offered to join him. He noticed the sidelong glance Dom gave him but Eames was grateful when his friend didn't demand an explanation.

 

Knowing it wouldn't be long before the Crown State College buses left to return to their own campus across town, Eames and Dom finished changing in a rush and ran across the stadium to the visitor's side. They still saw a bunch of blue and white, which meant that the Cadets were probably going to remain in uniform until they returned home. This made it easier to pick out the band members from the crowds of spectators pushing for the exits and it wasn't long before Eames spotted Arthur across the hall.

 

Eames noticed the way Arthur stiffened when he caught sight of Dom and Eames approaching, but he didn't run. Eames let Dom lead, hanging back since he wasn't sure how Arthur would respond. And after everything that had happened, Eames felt a bit shamed. Dom stepped up and offered a hand, which Arthur shook after a moment of consideration. Eames didn't offer his hand and Arthur barely looked over to acknowledge him anyway. Eames had never felt more unwelcome in his life.

 

"I'm Dom. Your performance was incredible," Dom introduced and praised, ignoring the tension between Eames and Arthur. "You should try out for our college next year."

 

Arthur smiled politely. "Thank you, but I'd feel a little guilty for taking your position on the drumline."

 

Eames' eyes widened but before he could be fully insulted on Dom's behalf, his friend laughed loudly. "It would be good to have someone with your skill level on the team," Dom said, not indicating any anger to the bold statement.

 

Any polite humour left Arthur's face as his eyes finally drifted over to Eames. "I don't think I'd fit in with a team like yours. Not now that I know you treat others so poorly just because they are on the opposite side of the field."

 

Before Dom or Eames could say anything in response to that they were interrupted by a petite girl decked out in the Crown State uniform for their colour guard that performed alongside the band. She had a collection of flags under her arm and her face was flushed from running. "Arthur, where have you been? The bus is ready to leave and Yusuf has been texting me asking when we'll be back so he can order the pizza."

 

"Sorry, Ariadne; I'm coming," Arthur said lightly, giving her a small smile before turning back. "It was nice to meet you, Dom," Arthur nodded towards Dom and then levelled Eames with a cold stare. "And Eames..." Arthur trailed off. Eames felt his heart race as he watched Arthur pull that slip of paper from beneath his shoulder pad. Arthur had performed the entire showdown and solo with Eames' name and number tucked beneath his uniform and hadn't shown a second of discomfort. "Better luck next time," Arthur mocked as he pressed the paper into Eames' palm before walking away beside Ariadne.

 

Eames' team had won the football game and technically Eames wasn't the one to lose when Arthur beat the Almira Vanguard. But Eames knew it wasn't the school events Arthur was referring to, and Eames ended up watching Arthur – who didn't look back once – until he was lost in the crowd.


	2. Chapter 2

"How was the game?" Mal asked as Dom and Eames stepped into the apartment. "I can't believe I had to work and missed it."

 

"We won the game and lost the drum corps competition," Dom told her as he walked up and kissed his girlfriend softly. Eames averted his eyes politely, knowing his friends didn't mean to make him feel like a third wheel. They were all friends and this was better than living with strangers. "The new centre snare is impressive."

 

"He's an asshole," Eames spat, still riled up.

 

"No, you were the asshole," Dom said calmly. "You just don't like being shown up."

 

"He was just lucky today," Eames insisted.

 

"That wasn't luck and you know it," Dom shot back. He was right; Eames did know. And he was embarrassed that Dom was taking his defeat with more grace than Eames was.

 

"If I ever saw him again it would be too soon," Eames said and excused himself to his room.

 

Halfway down the hall he heard Mal asking Dom quietly for details. "Eames flirted with Arthur, the drummer, like he normally does but Arthur didn't even look fazed. I don't think he's accustomed to being rejected and shown up on top of it all."

 

"Sounds like it would be interesting seeing them in a room together," Mal said thoughtfully.

 

Eames went to his room and closed the door without bothering to listen to anymore of his roommates' conversation. He would have to return to the kitchen at some point to get dinner but for now he needed some time alone. It was true that Arthur had shot gaping holes in Eames' pride, but Eames' defensive anger was quickly fading away to a curious awe and Eames wasn't in the mood for conversation.

 

Eames flopped down on his bed and let his eyes drift closed. As soon as his ceiling disappeared from view Eames saw the football field again. Things were in slow motion as Eames remembered Arthur's solo. Each strike to the drum, each flourish of the drumsticks as Arthur twirled them through the air... He knew it was just from a lot of practice but it looked like magic.

 

Before Eames even realized that his mind was slowing, he was jolting awake three hours later. The clock on his bedside table declared 9pm and Eames groaned, rolling over. His eyes flashed open when he felt his swollen cock press against the mattress. For a moment Eames was conflicted, but then he decided that after the day he had, he deserved some release.

 

Eames imagined Arthur lying loose and pliant below him, ready to take Eames in, but to Eames' mounting frustration he felt his erection wilting even as he rocked his hips. Eames was just considering giving up and going to shower when he remembered how alive Arthur had looked on the field; eyes bright and cheeks flushed.

 

On his next thrust against the mattress Eames imagined Arthur like that and Eames moaned loudly into his pillow as heat pooled in his groin. It didn't take long for Eames' hips to rut more demandingly, his breath catching as he clenched his eyes closed and came in his boxers. He choked on Arthur's name and swallowed it back down, refusing to voice it.

 

His hips continued to twitch weakly for a long time after his orgasm, Eames shuddering with the pleasure. Then he rolled onto his back and attempted to catch his breath, thoughts hazy. Again Eames' mind returned to his memories of Arthur, though the sting of hurt pride had lessened.

 

Eventually Eames pulled himself out of bed and into the shower, rinsing away his sweat and seed. After that he heated up some leftovers and joined Dom and Mal on the couch where they were watching a movie. They greeted him and Dom asked if he was alright, perhaps able to read something on Eames' face. Eames noticed Mal watching him curiously but Eames wasn't ready to admit to anyone that he couldn't stop thinking about Arthur. Instead he simply nodded and shovelled food into his mouth. Thankfully his roommates let the topic slide.

 

#

 

Eames had hoped that the first week of classes would properly distract him from his memories of Saturday's game. Between his school workload and football practice Eames barely had time to do more than eat and sleep in his 'free time'. Still, it seemed inevitable that every time his attention drifted his mind would return to Arthur.

 

Eames didn't understand it. He had been with plenty of good looking men before and had just recently cut off his summer fling the previous week. He had more than enough memories for his imagination to choose from and he shouldn't be this horny already. Beyond that, Eames wasn't the sort to enjoy chasing after someone who wasn't interested; it was more fun finding one of the many boys willing to slide into his bed and share pleasure.

 

Regardless, Eames seemed incapable – or unwilling – to stop thinking about the Crown State drummer. It was on Friday night when Eames, Dom and Mal had gone to the campus pub for drinks that he admitted this problem to his friends. "You're probably feeling guilty," Dom suggested over his beer. "Maybe if you went over to Crown State and apologized to Arthur you'd feel better and forget about it."

 

Eames had no intention of telling his friends that guilt was not the feeling he was currently struggling with, but the idea of seeing Arthur again left Eames feeling calmer. He wasn't sure what he would say or do if he saw Arthur – which was assuming that Eames could even randomly _find_ him on campus – but Eames was certain he could figure out how to make this hang-up end.

 

It was actually Mal who suggested he contact Crown State College for a schedule of the drumline practices, pretending to be a student interested in signing up. Originally Eames wasn't sure how successful the plan would be but when he managed to find a contact phone number on the website and got the schedule by talking to a volunteer on the phone, Eames decided that there was no chance of backing out.

 

Eames had football practice all Saturday morning and then drove his beaten-up car across town to the Crown State campus after lunch in search of Arthur. As the schedule had promised, Eames found Arthur and the rest of the Crown State Cadets practicing on the football field. Each section of the band and drumline were split up into smaller groups and Eames sat down in the stands closest to where the snares were practicing.

 

It was a warm, sunny afternoon and Eames was in no rush to get back home so he focused his attention on the drummers. He could see Arthur among the other snare drummers, mostly remaining part of the line rather than standing separate. There was actually an older-looking student who was calling out instructions and running the drummers through the exercises; Arthur only took lead when teaching a new drumming routine they would be learning.

 

From the short distance between them Eames noticed Arthur's eyes flicker over to him only once but Eames was not perturbed. Although he wasn't entirely certain what he wanted to achieve by coming here, Eames had already decided that aggression was not his goal this time around. Arthur ignored him after that first look and focused on the practice and Eames remained lounging on the bleachers, intrigued at seeing Arthur hanging back despite the obvious skill everyone no doubt knew he possessed.

 

When the band practice ended the blend of sounds assaulting Eames' ears faded away. Most Crown State students headed inside to change their clothes and deposit their instruments for safe-keeping while a few other students lingered in clusters on the field to chat. Arthur was left alone and before Eames could decide if he wanted to attempt another approach, Arthur turned and walked towards him. Arthur stopped at the base of the bleachers, three rows in front of Eames.

 

"Come to watch so you can tell Dom all my tricks?" Arthur demanded, his eyes hard and unreadable.

 

Eames opened his mouth and struggled for something to say. He wanted to fix this; to rewind their first introduction or at least smooth over the rift between them. "I could watch you all day and not know what to tell Dom beyond the fact that you're wicked fast. And he already knows that," he said.

 

"Then why are you here?" Arthur's eyes narrowed.

 

The words were out of Eames' mouth before he could think about their implication. "I find you utterly mesmerizing."

 

To his surprise Arthur blinked and glanced away for a moment before he looked back and gave Eames a disbelieving look. "Why are you _really_ here?"

 

Dismayed, Eames felt the energy that had filled him from listening to the drumline slip away, leaving him feeling heavy. "I made a mistake last time, Arthur," Eames was willing to admit.

 

It wasn't enough for Arthur, who turned on his heel away from Eames and the bleachers. "You showed your true colours, Eames," Arthur said to him crisply. "You may regret it, but it wasn't a mistake." And with that, before Eames could try to figure out what to say, Arthur walked back across the field and out of sight.

 

#

 

Eames cursed himself, his hands clutching his car's steering wheel tightly. What the fuck was he doing back here? Arthur had made it clear last Saturday that he had no interest in getting to know Eames, or letting him off the hook for Eames' shitty introduction. So why was he back at the Crown State campus, parked and ready to go watch another drumming practice?

 

Because he still couldn't stop thinking about Arthur, even when Eames had bedded a beautiful man from one of his Sociology courses for a night of bare, sweaty skin and demanding lips.

 

Because Arthur was wrong; Eames' behaviour _had_ been a mistake, _and_ he regretted it.

 

Because Eames had never met anyone before who made Eames regret acting the way he did to Arthur – the way he had acted to so many other competitors before but had never thought twice about it.

 

"Fuck it all," Eames groaned to himself before dragging himself out of the car.

 

The band was just organizing into their sections as Eames arrived and took his same place on the bleachers. A few students glanced over at him, though Eames doubted any of them recognized him except for Arthur. No one gave him any attention once practice began and Eames was content sitting quietly and watching. His eyes skimmed across every musician curiously but Eames' focus always returned to Arthur in the middle of the drumline.

 

Eames hadn't been lying; he truly found Arthur's drumming mesmerizing to watch. He was curious to know more about Arthur’s past, wondering how many years Arthur had been practicing and how much Arthur had to thank for plain talent alone. And as the days passed Eames found himself wondering more questions he knew Arthur would probably never answer: What program was he studying at college? What did he want to do after school? What was his favourite food?

 

Eames rubbed his eyes in aggravation and forced those thoughts away again. Arthur was barely even willing to tolerate Eames’ company long enough to ask a question, let alone learn more about Arthur’s interests. There was no sense indulging in those silent questions and letting his curiosity mount when his questions would never be answered. Eames might as well just sit here and enjoy the drumming practice and then slink home, hopefully soon fighting off this intrigue with the Crown State drummer.

 

Keeping his eyes focused on Arthur’s drumming, Eames let the power and energy of the collective drumline wash over him. It was helpful in counteracting how heavy Eames felt every time he thought back with regret to his first meeting with Arthur. Why hadn’t he just acted more gentlemanly? What _honestly_ had been the point in acting like such an asshole?

 

Eames hadn’t yet decided if he wanted to attempt approaching Arthur again or if he was just going to accept the consequences of his actions and head home once practice was over. Arthur made the decision for Eames by walking towards him across the field once practice had finished and the rest of the Cadets headed towards the change rooms.

 

The sun was behind Eames and Arthur shielded his eyes with a hand, his drumsticks held safe in his other hand. “Don’t you have a drumline of your own to listen to?” Arthur called up to him from the field, not climbing the stands to join Eames.

 

Eames felt his shoulders slump in defeat. Arthur made a good point, and Eames didn’t know how to explain properly the fact that it wasn’t just the drumming he was enjoying. Even from a distance Eames continued to enjoy seeing Arthur come alive as he led and supported his drumline, and tapped out a fancy solo that left the air echoing with awe. “Yes,” he said simply, not knowing what else to say to get Arthur to stay.

 

Arthur pursed his lips, considering Eames for a long moment. Then he wielded his drumsticks and began drumming, quiet at first but growing louder. Eames could tease out repeated sections of rhythm, guessing that Arthur was practicing certain parts over and over until he was satisfied with them. But there were also other flourishes Arthur added in between the repeats that made it sound like Arthur was performing for Eames instead of just practicing. The best part was when Arthur closed his eyes, drumming like he had been born to do it.

 

It didn’t last long; after only a few minutes Arthur held his drumsticks in rest position again. His eyes flashed open and he stared at Eames for another long moment before he turned on his heel and headed towards the change rooms. Eames nearly tripped in his rush to stand and catch up to Arthur, racing down the bleacher steps three at a time. Arthur wasn’t running from him but his walking pace was brisk and Eames was slightly out of breath when he caught up and matched Arthur’s pace.

 

“Will you go on a date with me, Arthur?” Eames requested, not bothering to hide how hopeful he was.

 

Arthur didn’t even give him a sidelong glance. “No, Eames. I won’t.”

 

Eames’ heart sunk. “Why not? Just give me another chance. I shouldn’t have acted that way to you at the game.”

 

Arthur stopped walking so quickly that Eames stumbled to a stop. Arthur’s lips were a tight line, his eyes distant. “The reason I won’t give you a second chance is because you’re not the sort of person I want to know,” Arthur told him frankly, offering another sharp stab to Eames’ heart. “You shouldn’t act that way to _anyone_ ; I shouldn’t be your only exception just because you’re infatuated.”

 

Eames blushed furiously with shy embarrassment and opened his mouth to retaliate but then couldn't figure out what to say in his defence. Again Arthur made a very good point; one that was hard to accept gracefully but something Eames had to consider. Being nice to one person just because they had caught his eye while remaining rude and bullying to others didn't make Eames any better of a person.

 

"Why did you play the drums for me though?" Eames couldn't help but ask. If this was how Arthur felt towards him, why hadn't Arthur disappeared to the change rooms immediately?

 

"I have a weakness for showing up people who think they're better than everyone else," Arthur said, which was one step too far. Eames might be a flirt, and the occasional cocky asshole, but he didn't think he was better than everyone else. He knew that everyone had their own skills and talents, as well as their own weaknesses. Eames would never presume he was above everyone else, and it pained him to know this was how Arthur saw him.

 

He couldn't even think of something to say, his motivation sapped as his head drooped. Arthur said nothing more before walking towards the change rooms and Eames did nothing else to stop him from leaving.

 

#

 

"I don't understand it," Eames grumbled from where he was sprawled out on the carpet. He was supposed to be studying but found his thoughts to be wayward and difficult to pin down.

 

Mal glanced over the top of her textbook from where she was sitting on the couch to look at him before returning her attention to the book. "You're not used to being rejected; you want what you can't have," she informed him. Eames groaned loudly, cursing that he had a Psychology major for a roommate. Dom was usually a neutral zone between them when Eames and Mal got into a debate about something but he was currently out practicing a new solo for an upcoming game.

 

"He made me feel like shit about myself. I promised myself that I'd never let someone make me feel like that again," Eames lamented, fighting off memories of awkward childhood years and the two years it had taken his parents to accept him after Eames confessed to being gay. "And now I'm letting the opinion of some stupid sophomore make me hate myself."

 

"In all seriousness," Mal sighed, closing her book entirely to give Eames her full attention. "Either stop driving over there to watch Arthur perform and give yourself the time to _get over him_ , or sit down and think about why his opinion hurt you so much."

 

Eames weathered his bottom lip in thought, his eyebrows furrowed. "Well it's never nice hearing that someone thinks so poorly of you."

 

"You've had plenty of displeasure in response to your behaviour before," Mal reminded him. "And you've just shrugged it off and moved on. So why is it that you're moaning and rolling around on the carpet if Arthur is just some 'stupid sophomore' to you?"

 

"I don't know," Eames whispered. Although Eames was willing to admit that he was rather infatuated with Arthur, Eames knew that a little crush wouldn't be enough to affect Eames so strongly. The living room fell silent as Mal got back to work and Eames thought about Arthur, what Arthur had said and how it made Eames feel. And then a sickening realization dawned on him. "Maybe because I wonder if Arthur is right."

 

He looked to Mal for support, to tell Eames that he was crazy and worried about nothing, but she merely pursed her lips and gave him a considering look. "If you worry that, then it might be worthwhile thinking about if Arthur _is_ in fact right."

 

“Do you think he’s right?” Eames pressed, not caring that he was acting needy.

 

Mal shrugged. “All I’m saying is that a little self-reflection wouldn’t kill you. But you’re the only one who can decide the sort of person you want to be. And if this is the way you want to act, then you should own that and not let anyone make you feel bad for it. However,” she tapped her pencil against her textbook. “If this is _not_ the sort of person you want to be, then this is a good time to make some changes.”

 

The thought was a daunting one, but Eames already suspected that he was on the precipice of change. “Thanks, Mal,” he said and pulled himself off the floor, heading to his room. He needed to be alone with his thoughts for a while.

 

#

 

Eames debated for a long time about whether or not to go to Crown State the next weekend. A part of him knew that if he just forced himself to stay away for a few weeks Arthur would fall to the back of his thoughts, and then out of his mind entirely; making the time to see him every week just prolonged whatever it was Eames was struggling with. However, all week between his classes and homework Eames had been thinking about what Arthur and Mal had said, and Eames had made his decision.

 

He didn’t want to be the sort of person Arthur thought he was. Eames had never thought too seriously about his behaviour, preferring to enjoy his time in school and spend little time considering the consequences – both in regards to how others saw him, and to the people he inevitably hurt along the way. Now he wanted to test the waters, to see what sort of man he wanted to become after the wake-up call Arthur had hit him over the head with.

 

Crown State was actually hosting another college from out of town for a football game and drum corps competition, though it was still early in the season so tensions were not running too high. After a few minutes of digging through his closet Eames had found a sweater with blue and white to wear over his shirt and jeans.

 

It felt a little odd to be dressed in Arthur’s colours instead of his own, but it made Eames feel at home when he sat down in the bleachers and was surrounded by a sea of blue and white. No one would probably even recognize him as an Almira student; to them Eames was here to cheer on the team just like them. Eames wasn’t sure what he’d say if Arthur saw him decked out in Crown State blue and white, but reassured himself with the fact that Arthur was very unlikely to notice Eames in such a large crowd when he also had to perform.

 

The football game was enjoyable enough to watch but it was when the halftime buzzer was sounded and the field was cleared that Eames really felt his heart rate beginning to pick up. Not just at the excitement of seeing Arthur again – however pathetic that may seem to be excited to see someone who despised you – but also simply to hear the Crown State Cadets and the Jersey Frontline perform.

 

Again Crown State allowed the other team to perform first, which Eames began to suspect was a strategic move. The Jersey Frontline band was loud and impressive, but even as Eames watched from afar he could see that the drumline was a bit sloppy, their drumming slightly out of time between each drummer. Their performance still had Eames tapping his toe to the beat, but he knew for certain that the Cadets would sweep them away.

 

Knowing what was coming, Eames couldn’t keep the grin off his face when the blue and white Cadets took the field, taking their first formation. The drumline was front and center for the beginning, with Arthur standing tall and proud in the middle of his line. Eames saw Arthur’s eyes sweeping the stands and felt a thrill of nervous excitement but Arthur’s eyes didn’t linger anywhere before finally resting on the conductor standing ahead of him.

 

Eames was expecting something similar to the Cadets’ last performance that he had witnessed, but was immediately surprised when the music and rhythm came out sounding more upbeat and tropical, as if Eames was sitting on a beach in Rio listening to a steel drum band. Eames didn’t feel at all self-conscious when he began to sway in time with the rest of the Crown State supporters in the stands. It was seven whole minutes of music that _refused_ to be ignored.

 

During the entire show Eames kept his eyes on Arthur as he and the rest of the drumline ducked in and out of formation along with the rest of the band and colour guard. Once or twice Eames also noticed the smaller girl who had pulled Arthur away from Eames and Dom – Ariadne – throwing her flags and performing beautifully. But Eames’ attention never strayed for long; it was impossible for him to look away.

 

Arthur’s expression was one of serious focus but his cheeks were a bit pink and at the end of the performance, as everyone in the bleachers stood up and hollered their approval, Eames could see Arthur’s lips curl up into a tiny, private, satisfied smile. And even though Arthur hated him and wouldn’t even tolerate Eames’ presence, Eames felt overwhelmingly _proud_.

 

There was no official announcement of a drum corps winner but no one needed an announcement to know who had won. The Cadets left the field calmly and although Eames felt the urge to slip out of the stands and tell Arthur how amazing his performance had been, he forced himself to sit and watch the rest of the football game until the end. Arthur never came to find Eames in the stands – not that Eames expected him to even if Arthur had seen him from the field, which he probably hadn’t.

 

Eames didn’t feel too disappointed as he exited the bleachers along with the rest of the crowds, heading for his parked car. He left the Crown State campus with new energy and motivation, knowing that he absolutely had to find a way to make Arthur realize that Eames deserved a second chance.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Posting this chapter a day early since I'm aiming to get two chapters posted this week! *fingers crossed*

The apartment door clicked open and Eames stood from the couch in a rush. Immediately he felt his stomach twist nervously; Dom didn’t look very happy. “How did it go?” Eames asked tentatively. “Did you record the conversation?”

 

“I recorded it like you asked,” Dom said. He didn’t offer a smile. “You’re not going to like what you hear.”

 

Eames forced himself not to get too dejected before he heard the recording; maybe it had sounded more negative to Dom than it would sound to Eames. At least it seemed that Arthur was willing to talk to Dom, unlike how he skirted Eames whenever he approached. That was why Eames had asked Dom to go over to Crown State and try to ask Arthur for a second chance on Eames’ behalf.

 

“I’m ready,” Eames told him, sitting on the armrest anxiously. Dom took a few steps closer and unlocked his phone, holding it up for Eames to hear clearly as the recording began.

 

“ _Hi Arthur, can I talk to you for a minute?_ ”

 

An audible sigh. “ _I don’t mean to be rude but I really don’t want to hear whatever it is Eames sent you here to say_.”

 

“ _It’s true that Eames asked me to come_ ,” Dom said. “ _But I came by my own choice. I think you’ve really had an effect on him and I hate to see him so down. I think if you just gave him another chance to show you—_ ”

 

“ _Stop. Please_.” Eames felt his heart clench when he heard how distressed Arthur sounded. “ _I know you’re his friend, and I know how shitty it feels to have unrequited feelings. But you’re all being so unfair!_ ” Eames swallowed thickly. “ _I am so stressed with everything going on in my life and, believe it or not, that is not helped by Eames and you constantly guilting me about a decision I’m allowed to make_.”

 

“ _I understand, but I just think that maybe—_ ” Dom didn’t get a chance to finish his sentence.

 

“ _He was an asshole to me_ ,” Arthur’s voice was hard, unyielding. “ _He bullied me for no reason! Just because he’s had a change of heart doesn’t mean I’m obligated to like him back. Now please, I’m asking as nicely as I can: leave me alone._ ”

 

The recording ended and Dom slipped his phone back into his pocket. “I tried,” Dom said regretfully.

 

To Eames’ surprise he felt like crying; he was so ashamed of himself. Here he was saying he was going to change his behaviour but he just continued to push and bully Arthur trying to get his way; he hadn’t become a better person, he had just used new tactics. And Eames felt genuinely wretched. Of _course_ Arthur had a lot of stuff going on in his life. Studying for your degree and also being center snare for your school’s drumline were two major commitments, on top of friends and everything else. Who was Eames to demand that Arthur spend his valuable time on him?

 

“Thanks for trying, Dom,” Eames croaked, standing numbly and walking to his room. He closed the door with a quiet click and was grateful when Dom didn’t pursue him.

 

#

 

It was early Saturday morning when Eames stepped out of his car and began walking towards the Crown State football field. It was the end of September and already the air was growing chilly, a damp mist softening the edges of buildings and other objects Eames walked by. He had driven over before his own football practice began, when he knew Arthur would just be getting ready for his own practice a short time later.

 

As he had suspected, Arthur was out on the field along with a few other Cadets who were tiredly stumbling into groups to chat before practice began. Eames hovered by the edge of the stands, scared to step forward and terrified when Arthur noticed him and immediately glared. Arthur stormed towards him, eyes sharp and mouth turned down. “I thought I made myself perfectly clear to Dom the other day,” Arthur hissed, crowded into Eames’ personal space.

 

Eames couldn’t even enjoy the warmth Arthur’s body was radiating, fighting off the chill surrounding Eames. “You made yourself very clear,” Eames forced his voice to remain calm and level despite the fact that it felt like he was swallowing around glass. “I just wanted to say that I’m sorry for the way I’ve behaved, both at the game and afterwards.” His gaze fell to the grass in shame. “The apology is long overdue.”

 

After a moment of silence Eames snuck a glance upward and was surprised to see that Arthur looked a little stunned and conflicted. Their eyes met and this time Arthur was the one to look away. “I hate being made into the bad guy.”

 

“You were right,” Eames told Arthur. “You’re not obligated to like me just because… just because I like you,” Eames cleared his throat, trying not to think too much about his blushing cheeks.

 

Arthur glanced back. “Thank you.”

 

Eames nodded, shuffling his feet nervously. “Anyway, that’s all I wanted to say. And… And I suppose I should say ‘thank you’ as well. I needed the wake-up call.” Arthur nodded as well, looking as uncomfortable as Eames felt. Eames began to back away, knowing he had to bring this to an end before he fucked it all up again. Arthur didn’t call for him to stop or wait, and finally Eames forced himself to turn away fully and head back to his car.

 

#

 

Over the next two weeks Eames refused to let himself return to the Crown State campus, even when he knew the Cadets would be hosting another team and would be doing another performance. During the entire Friday evening Eames felt fidgety as he attempted and failed to focus on his homework, his mind imagining what sort of music and formations the Cadets would be showing off that evening. But he wanted to give Arthur the space he deserved and refused to be greedy.

 

“I guess you must really like him,” Mal said one evening as they all ate dinner in front of the television.

 

“What do you mean?” Eames grumbled, trying not to be too snappish with his roommates.

 

“Don’t take this the wrong way,” she began, and Eames prepared himself for the worst. “But I’ve never seen you put someone else’s needs over your own before Arthur. It’s a shame that it didn’t work out.”

 

“Yeah, it’s a shame,” Eames echoed, and sighed. “The worst part is that it’s my own damned fault.” He said nothing more and Dom and Mal dropped the subject, but Eames still felt his stomach twisting uncomfortably throughout the rest of dinner. It hurt to realize that Mal was right, that Eames _did_ care for Arthur more than he had cared for anyone else who caught his fancy, and to know that Eames had no one to blame but himself for the way things had turned out.

 

#

 

Eames was halfway through football practice Sunday evening when he glanced up towards the stands and noticed a flash of blue and white. He stumbled to a stop, straining his eyes, and felt his heart jump into his throat when he saw that it was Arthur sitting on the Almira bleachers, bundled up in a warm Crown State scarf and watching the football practice. Eames had no idea why Arthur was there, but couldn’t help being a little hopeful as he gave a shy smile that he hoped Arthur could see from the distance between them.

 

Unfortunately the moment was ruined when some of Eames’ teammates also noticed the Crown State blue and white and practice came to a brief standstill. “What the hell is he doing here?” one of the guys muttered, before turning fully to face Arthur and shouting across the field, “Get the fuck out of here! Spying won’t help your shitty team!”

 

Three of the guys began stalking towards the bleachers and Eames saw Arthur standing in a rush, looking tense. Quickly Eames rushed to stand in front of his teammates, staring them down and forcing them to stop their advance. “Lay off,” he said tersely. “We’re here to practice and he’s not worth our time.”

 

Neal, the boy who had first shouted up at Arthur, spat on the grass before shrugging his shoulders. “You’re right. Let him watch if he wants; he can run back with his tail between his legs and tell his school how badly they’re going to lose next time we play them.”

 

The others laughed and nodded and turned back to restart the drills the coach had them doing. Eames breathed a sigh of relief at neutralizing the conflict before it began, though he doubted Arthur was impressed with the reaction. When Eames glanced back over his shoulder he saw Arthur hesitantly sitting back down. Eames didn’t know why Arthur was hanging around when he looked so nervous, but Eames was no longer willing to make the first move.

 

Eames forced himself to keep his attention on the field even though his mind was trying to constantly return to thoughts of Arthur watching him from the stands. He was glad when practice was over and everyone began walking towards the change rooms and showers. Eames hesitated where he stood on the grass before giving in and looking back over to the bleachers.

 

Arthur was there, standing on the sidelines and still watching Eames. Despite being ridiculously nervous, Eames felt himself walking quickly towards Arthur. He didn’t think he’d ever get a chance to talk to Arthur again after their last conversation and even though Eames was disappointed with how things had ended, he was not unwilling to try again.

 

As Eames approached, Arthur tucked his hands in his pockets, looking just as shy and unsure as Eames felt. But their eyes met and Arthur gave a half-hearted smile. “I guess I shouldn’t have worn my Crown State scarf.”

 

Eames remembered his teammates jeering at Arthur, and the swell of protectiveness Eames had felt for the drummer. “You can wear whatever colours you want,” he insisted, adding more quietly. “Besides, the blue and white look good on you.”

 

“They looked pretty good on you as well,” Arthur said, which had Eames blushing and looking away. So Arthur _had_ noticed Eames in the crowd during Crown State’s last performance.

 

“Why are you here, Arthur?” was all Eames could bring himself to ask. He didn’t want to let his hopes get too high.

 

“I’m not sure,” Arthur admitted, which had Eames glancing up again to meet Arthur’s beautiful brown eyes. Arthur’s cheeks were a bit pink but he continued to speak. “I was so relieved after we spoke last time. I felt more relaxed and less stressed about everything, but then at the next practice when you didn’t show up I found myself… disappointed.” Arthur sighed. “I guess I just got accustomed to you being around.”

 

“But I made you unhappy whenever I was around,” Eames said, still fighting down his hopefulness. Just because Arthur was here didn’t mean he had suddenly changed his mind.

 

“Yeah, you did.” Arthur rubbed the back of his neck, expression conflicted. “I don’t know. I’m sorry, Eames. I shouldn’t have come. Now I’m being unfair too.”

 

Arthur began to turn away and Eames rushed to stand in front of him again, his heart aching. “Can I drive you home?” Eames offered. It was a long trek across town to get back to Crown State campus.

 

Arthur’s smile was sad, and it took all of Eames’ self-control to step back – to remember his promise to give Arthur space – rather than step closer to the sophomore. “I have my bus pass, but thanks,” Arthur said as he pulled out his bus pass from his pocket. “I should go.”

 

Eames didn’t stop Arthur from walking away, but was incapable of doing anything more than watching Arthur’s retreating back. Just before Arthur disappeared behind the bleachers on his way to the nearest road and bus stop, Eames called out. “For the record, I wouldn’t mind if you came to watch me practice again.”

 

Arthur paused and looked back at him. His face was still guarded but his smile seemed a little less pained. “Noted,” Arthur called back simply before disappearing from view.

 

#

 

The following Friday night Almira was hosting another state college for a football game. Their opponents, the Bendale Bulldogs, did not have a large drum corps band so the main event was the football game and both bands merely played some music during halftime to jazz the audience up and get everyone cheering.

 

Eames hadn’t seen Arthur since his visit to Almira campus the previous week but Eames still thought about him frequently, especially before the football game began. Dom and Eames chatted in the change rooms together while they got into their uniforms and it was normally the time when Eames would slip away to flirt with some important member of the band or the opponent’s football line-up to fluster them. That night Eames had no interest in such actions and instead stood on the edge of the football field to continue talking while they watched everyone set up for the game.

 

The game was a tight one; Almira and Bendale tied for the majority before Bendale finally pulled ahead in the last few minutes and scored a touchdown to decide the game. Eames was miffed at their loss after all the practice they had put in but rather than slipping away from the field like he normally did, he lined up with the rest of his team and shook hands with their opponents. Eames’ handshakes might be a little tighter than necessary but he was still proud of himself for acting with a little more good sportsmanship than he used to.

 

It was as Eames was finally walking off the field, intent on changing out of his sweaty clothes and drinking away his loss at the pub with Dom that Eames came to a standstill. On the sidelines of the field, this time not dressed in any particular set of colours, was Arthur. Dom saw as well and told Eames he would be waiting in the change rooms before heading off.

 

Eames was hesitant about approaching Arthur since he still didn’t know what the drummer was thinking. He had visited the other week but still seemed very uncertain of his own motivations. Now perhaps he had made a decision, judging by Arthur’s calm stance as he watched Eames step closer. Halfway across the field Eames was surprised to see Arthur begin to walk as well, meeting him part way.

 

“Hi,” Eames began nervously, though trying to sound nonchalant. “Did you enjoy the game? It must’ve been nice seeing Bendale kick our asses.”

 

Arthur raised an eyebrow. “It was a good game, but no one ever said I was cheering for Bendale.”

 

Eames felt warmth flood through his veins. The urge to flirt was building but Eames refused to ruin this tentative truce. “Any particular reason why you decided to attend tonight?”

 

“Dom actually asked me to come,” Arthur said, which surprised Eames. His shock must’ve been clear on his face because Arthur continued. “He stopped by the other night at practice and told me that even though things didn’t work out, you still deserved a second chance. Dom is very proud of you and… you’ve impressed me as well,” Arthur admitted, meeting Eames’ eyes for a moment before looking past him to the now-empty field. “I thought last week at your football practice you were just protecting me because it was me. But I watched you tonight even when you didn't know I was watching and I have to say I like this side of you a lot more.”

 

 _Like me enough to date me?_ Eames thought and then pushed it aside; that wasn’t the point of this conversation. Eames had learned from his mistakes, thought about who he wanted to be, and made changes for the better. Arthur was acknowledging this, and that was what was important. “Thank you,” Eames said sincerely.

 

“You’re welcome,” Arthur returned with a soft smile. The desire to pin Arthur to the turf and fuck him softened with that smile, instead filling Eames’ mind with thoughts of lingering kisses and warm embraces. “So what are your plans for the rest of the evening?”

 

“The pub. Dom and his girlfriend and I are going.” Eames’ heart was racing. “You’re welcome to join.”

 

Arthur looked like he was truly considering it for a moment before he shook his head. “No thanks. Our drumline practice is early tomorrow morning.” Eames thought that would be the end of it, but then Arthur spoke more softly. “If you’re careful to not drink yourself under the table tonight you could stop by.”

 

“Would you like me to?” Eames took half a step forward and bit his lip when Arthur took a half step back. It seemed clear that Arthur didn’t hate Eames nearly as much as he had three weeks ago, but was still uncertain of what – if any – changes in their relationship he wanted to pursue.

 

“Maybe,” Arthur said noncommittally, and took two more steps back. “Anyway, my bus will be here any minute so I need to go. Have a good night.”

 

“You too,” Eames said with a sigh, not even bothering to offer a ride since Arthur was already quickly walking away and out of sight.


	4. Chapter 4

Eames did end up drinking himself silly, between the lost football game and his sad confusion about Arthur’s behaviour. It would’ve been easier if Arthur just continued hating Eames because then Eames would at least know where they stood. He spoke to Dom and Mal about it as they downed their drinks and although his friends listened and cared, they knew as little about what was going on in Arthur’s brain as Eames himself did.

 

It was late morning when Eames woke up, a bad taste in his mouth and a demanding throb behind his eyes as his hangover kicked in. Eames groaned and forced himself out of bed, downing two painkillers with water and munching slowly on toast while pulling on a comfortable pair of clothes. He was halfway to the door when he finally noticed that it was pouring rain outside, though that only had him pausing for a moment before continuing out to his car.

 

Arthur would not have made the suggestion that Eames should come to the drumline practice if a part of him didn’t want Eames there. And although there was a high chance that the whole practice had been cancelled with the weather, Eames wasn’t going to ignore such an invitation. He was grateful at least that it wasn’t sunny so his eyes didn’t hurt as much as he drove across town and parked as close to the field as he could manage.

 

Above the rushing sound of rain Eames could hear a sole drum beating away as he stepped out of his car and opened his large umbrella to hide under. Eames felt a clench of worry in his stomach as he raced as quickly across the soggy grass as he could without slipping, and was incredibly thankful that he had forced himself out of bed when he saw Arthur standing alone in the field drumming away.

 

Even though Arthur was blatantly ignoring the downpour around him, his body was not. Even from a distance Eames could see the way Arthur was trembling, the late October rain chilling him. More concerning was how quickly and angrily Arthur was drumming out his sharp rhythm. It wasn’t Eames’ place to determine Arthur’s limits but Arthur was already soaked through and likely freezing, and yet he was drumming faster and harder than Eames had ever witnessed in his life.

 

As he feared, Eames wasn’t even halfway to Arthur when he heard the crack of fingers slipping and hitting sharply against the drum’s edge, the drumsticks falling to the grass. Arthur gave a cry and a curse that could be heard above the downpour as he cradled his hand against his chest. Eames reached him then, ducking down to grab the drumsticks and then standing close while holding the umbrella over both of their heads.

 

“I’m taking you home,” Eames told Arthur, who raised no argument in response when Eames rested a hand on Arthur’s shoulder and gently nudged him back towards the parking lot.

 

Once they reached Eames’ car, Eames helped pull off Arthur’s drum and set it as carefully as he could on the back seat. After that he prodded Arthur into the car and then circled around to slip into the driver’s seat, closing the umbrella and setting it on the floor. Immediately Eames turned on the car and blasted the heat, seeing how badly Arthur was still shaking.

 

“Can you bend them?” he asked Arthur, watching as Arthur continued holding his injured hand against his chest. Arthur held his hand out for a moment and although he winced in pain, he curled his fingers twice to prove that they weren’t broken.

 

Eames reached over and Arthur flinched away, holding his hand to his chest again. “What are you doing?”

 

“I’m familiar with injuries,” Eames explained, remembering the injuries he and his friends had sustained over the years from football and other sports. “I’m just going to check your fingers over.”

 

Arthur hesitated for a long moment and then offered his hand. Eames was careful as he looked over Arthur’s fingers and massaged delicately in search of any fractures. Arthur’s fingers were red and white from the cold, and swollen from the injury, but it didn’t appear to Eames that Arthur would need to go to the hospital to get it treated. As he checked over Arthur’s fingers, Eames glanced up and noticed that Arthur’s cheeks were still wet even though he was out of the rain now. Arthur was crying and Eames only wanted to hold him close and take his pain away.

 

Arthur wasn’t saying anything so Eames eventually cleared his throat and let Arthur’s hand go. “Which way is home?” he asked.

 

For a second Arthur looked like he was going to argue. But then he slowly buckled up his seatbelt. “You can drive out of the parking lot and turn left. I’ll give more directions from there.”

 

Eames did up his own seatbelt and flicked on his windshield wipers before pulling out of his parking spot. He turned left onto the street and then followed Arthur’s directions for the next five minutes until they were parking outside of a large residence building. Eames handed the umbrella and drumsticks over to Arthur and then manoeuvred Arthur’s drum into his arms. Arthur kept them both mostly protected from the rain as they ran into the residence building.

 

It was warmer inside the lobby and both of them breathed a sigh of relief. Without words Arthur led Eames to the elevator and together they rode up to the fifth floor. Eames was surprised at how heavy Arthur’s drum got the longer he held it and he was relieved when Arthur finally got the door open and Eames could set the drum on the small kitchen table. They had immediately walked into a small living room and kitchenette, and Eames saw three doors; two leading to bedrooms and one to a bathroom.

 

"You should shower to warm up," Eames suggested, ignoring his nervousness at being in Arthur's residence room and choosing instead to focus on helping Arthur however he could. Arthur had set the umbrella on the ground and the drumsticks on the kitchen table by the drum and had returned to holding his injured hand against his chest. "I could leave... if you want," Eames forced himself to add when he saw how uncomfortable Arthur looked.

 

Arthur bit his lip and then shook his head. Without saying anything Arthur disappeared into one of the bedrooms and Eames stood awkwardly by the door in confusion until Arthur returned. Eames accepted the clothes Arthur shoved into his hands but didn't manage to voice a 'thank you' before Arthur took his own set of clothes into the bathroom and closed the door firmly behind him.

 

Arthur wasn't exactly the most welcoming of hosts, but Eames reminded himself that their relationship had never exactly been smooth and also that Arthur was in pain. Eames heard the shower turn on and, after a few seconds of standing uncomfortably on the doormat, Eames slipped into the clothes that had been offered to him. He hadn't gotten as soaked as Arthur had from the rain, but it still felt good pulling on warm, dry clothes. Especially when Eames breathed deeply and recognized Arthur's distinct scent clinging to the fabric.

 

Eames set his wet clothes on the floor by the umbrella and then looked around for something to do so that he felt marginally less awkward. He found a few spare dish towels and unfurled one on the kitchen table to set the drum on and then used a second one to mop up the puddles of water from the drum, drumsticks, and their clothes. By that time he heard the shower turning off and Eames found an icepack in the small freezer, which he wrapped up in the third towel he had found.

 

When Arthur emerged from the bathroom Eames had to force himself not to stare. Arthur's cheeks were flushed from the heat of the shower, and his hair had clearly been swept back with nothing but fingers. The sweatpants on Arthur's hips dipped low while his shirt rode up ever so slightly, and Eames had never before thought that 'rumpled' could be so appealing.

 

"I got you ice," Eames said and then cleared his throat, blushing when his voice came out rougher than he intended. To cover up his embarrassment he held up the wrapped icepack in offering, which Arthur considered for a moment before stepping forward and taking it with his uninjured hand.

 

"Thanks, Eames," Arthur muttered, moving to sit down on the couch in the corner by the beaten-up old TV. Not knowing what else to do, Eames slowly approached the couch and sat down beside Arthur, watching as Arthur carefully curled his swollen fingers around the clothed icepack. Arthur caught him staring and gave a tiny, reassuring smile. "They'll be fine. I won't be able to drum for a few days but it serves me right."

 

"Why were you out there in the rain?" Eames asked, still fighting down the urge to wrap his arms around Arthur, to hold Arthur's hand in his own and gently bring those abused fingers to his lips.

 

Arthur huffed quietly and Eames was worried he had angered Arthur with the question but when he looked he could see a blush creeping across Arthur's cheeks. "I was waiting for you, and the longer I stayed there the angrier I got."

 

Eames felt a sickening drop in the pit of his stomach. "I'm sorry I kept you waiting. I got drunk just like you told me not to and I didn't set an alarm because until I actually woke up I was too scared you had been kidding with the invite."

 

Arthur slid his uninjured hand through his hair, not meeting Eames' gaze. "It wasn't you I was angry at," Arthur confessed. "At least, not fully. I was angry at myself for thinking about you, and missing you, and being disappointed that you didn't show up. You were such a huge asshole at first, and _I_ was the one who chased you off. I shouldn't like you."

 

"Shouldn't?" Eames echoed, feeling his heart stutter in his chest.

 

"I don't _want_ to like you," Arthur's voice was hard and Eames felt his eyes drop sadly. It didn't matter that there seemed to be a part of Arthur who liked Eames in return, because Arthur was fighting it. Arthur was focusing on the past and refusing to acknowledge the positive changes Eames had decided to make in his life, even though Arthur had witnessed the changes himself.

 

Eames felt sick as he stood from the couch stiffly. He still liked Arthur, perhaps more than he had ever liked anyone else. Which was why it hurt so much when Eames realized that he had to walk away from this; lingering any longer would just hurt them both. "I'll get your clothes washed and returned to you," Eames' voice was mechanical as he walked back to the door and stepped into his soggy shoes. He wasn't sure how he'd get Arthur's clothes he was wearing back to Arthur but Eames didn't want to think about it right now. He just wanted to get out, and away.

 

"Eames, wait!" Arthur called after him, but Eames had already picked up his umbrella and clothes and opened the door. The door closed with a resolute _click_ and Arthur didn't pursue Eames into the hallway. Ignoring the pain in his chest, Eames headed back out into the rain and to his car. He planned to curl up in bed for the rest of the day and hopefully shut his brain off entirely.

 

#

 

Eames was sitting at his desk knocking back another shot when his phone began buzzing against the desk surface. The noise jolted Eames and he glowered at the phone. He hadn't turned down Dom and Mal's invitation to join a party three blocks away just to get drunk calls at home. Eames ignored the phone until it stopped buzzing and was halfway to deciding whether or not he wanted to pour another shot when the phone began ringing again.

 

With an angry sigh Eames picked it up and brought it to his ear. "What?"

 

"Eames," Dom shouted to him through the phone, struggling to be heard over the party music and chatter. "You need to get over here."

 

"I already told you I want to stay home," Eames said in return, raising his own voice to be heard. Not only did Eames not feel like company, he also didn't have a costume for the Halloween party.

 

"I know," Dom said. "But Arthur's here and he's asking for you."

 

"Arthur already made his choice," Eames snapped, his thoughts too hazy with alcohol to wonder why Arthur was all the way across town for a Halloween party.

 

"I know you're hurt, Eames," Dom's voice fell to a calmer pitch as he moved to a different room to get away from some of the noise. "But I don't think Arthur knows anyone here and he's piss-drunk. I'm worried about him."

 

Eames wanted to say that that was Arthur's own damn fault, and that he could find his own way home. But just because Eames was hurt didn't mean his feelings had faded, and the niggling sense of worry in the pit of his stomach had Eames pulling himself into a standing position. Eames held onto the desk as he got his balance and then stumbled out into the hallway to get his boots and jacket. "Just keep him out of trouble until I get there."

 

Luckily the party was at one of the frat houses near campus where some of Eames' and Dom's friends from the football team lived so Eames knew how to get there despite his blurry vision and the alcohol sloshing in his stomach. The sidewalks were crowded with other party-goers in various costumes but Eames pushed through them all in his single-minded focus. He could hear the party before he reached the large house, music and laughter spilling out through the windows.

 

Eames stepped inside and was hit with a wave of noise. He pulled out his phone from his pocket and sent a text to Dom. _I'm here. Where are you?_ While he waited for a response he began walking through the crowds, searching for Dom, Mal or Arthur. Some people recognized him and called him over but Eames merely smiled and waved before continuing on. His worry paired with the alcohol was making him feel a bit nauseous and the house was too loud and hot; he just wanted to find his friends and Arthur and get out of there.

 

"Eames!" he heard a voice call from behind him. Eames spun on his heel and before he had a chance to prepare he had an armful of Arthur, who promptly wrapped his arms around Eames' neck and pulled him into a deep kiss. Arthur tasted of tequila and clashed sharply with Eames' rum but the slide of their lips stole Eames' attention as he fell back against the wall, Arthur's body moulding to his own as their lips locked.

 

"Arthur," Eames moaned into Arthur's mouth as his hands slid down Arthur's back to grip his hips tightly. Because yes Arthur's words had hurt and yes, everything between them was a complicated mess but _fuck_ this was exactly what Eames wanted and he wasn't going to let it go.

 

Someone gave an obnoxious cheer and Eames' eyes flashed open. He continued to hold Arthur close but separated their lips when he noticed that they had an audience. Eames was glad that his friends all already knew that he was gay so this didn't exactly come as a shock to anyone, but he still didn't appreciate others watching them in this moment.

 

Arthur seemed oblivious, his body burning as he rested most of his weight against Eames. "Don't leave," Arthur demanded. "I was such an idiot. Please!" Before Eames could say anything in response Arthur's lips were on his again, greedy and insistent.

 

Eames could feel his body thrumming with arousal at Arthur's heat and sheer _desire_ , but he refused to deal with this now. Besides the fact that their last talk had ended poorly, half of the party was ogling them now. Eames pushed Arthur away just enough to put some space between their overheated bodies and felt his body ache when Arthur whined and gave him a hurt look.

 

"Now isn't the time or place," Eames said to Arthur under his breath.

 

Finally Arthur looked around the room and realized the attention they had collected. Arthur's cheeks, which had already been flushed with alcohol, turned a darker red. Arthur bit his lip and turned back to Eames, leaning closer to whisper in his ear. "I want you to take me home."

 

Eames' body burned with another rush of arousal but was saved from acting on it when Dom and Mal pushed through the crowd. This reminded Eames of Arthur's own friends and met Arthur's gaze. "Are you here with your friends?"

 

Arthur shook his head. "Ariadne and Yusuf are back on campus. They're doing a movie night but I wanted to find you. I heard about this party the Almira football team was hosting and I hoped you'd be here."

 

Dom and Mal were in the process of shooing the crowd away, much to Eames' relief. He was strongly considering telling Arthur off for coming here drunk when he didn't know his way around or any safe way of getting home, but Eames could tell that it wasn't the time for a lecture. Arthur had clearly had too much alcohol and was beginning to sway, and Eames could only think to pull Arthur close to hold him steady.

 

"I'm so sorry," Arthur whispered against Eames' neck where he had tucked his face. Arthur's voice was heartbreaking.

 

"Are you both alright?" Mal asked as she stepped closer, the party returning to normal as everyone went back to their own chatting and dancing.

 

"We're both a little drunk," Eames admitted as Dom moved to stand beside his girlfriend, both of them looking Eames and Arthur over worriedly. "But otherwise we're okay. I'm going to take Arthur home."

 

Dom grimaced and looked uncomfortable. "Are you sure that's a good idea with the state you're both in?"

 

Eames didn't take offense; he knew his friend was just trying to look out for him. "We're just going to sleep," Eames assured his friends, ignoring Arthur's grunt of protest. "We can figure shit out tomorrow."

 

"Do you want us to go home with you?" Mal offered, no doubt noticing how Eames still seemed significantly fuzzy in his thinking.

 

"Enjoy the party," Eames said, finally pushing himself away from the wall and steadying both himself and Arthur. "I'll text you when we get home to let you know we made it. And Dom," Eames looked to his closest friend at the same time as he wrapped an arm around Arthur's shoulders to keep him standing. "Thank you for letting me know."

 

Dom nodded. "Just be careful. Wait until tomorrow to make any decisions."

 

"We will," Eames promised and then waved goodbye to his friends. He walked both of them to the door and out onto the sidewalk, the cool air barely even fazing Eames' overheated body. Arthur wound an arm around Eames' waist in return for some added stability and together they walked in silence until they reached Eames' apartment and got the door open.

 

As soon as they were inside and their shoes were kicked off Arthur spoke up. "I don't want to sleep. I want you to fuck me."

 

"Christ, Arthur," Eames groaned and pinned Arthur to the wall, because he only had so much self-restraint. "You shouldn't talk to me like that. You just ripped my heart out last week." Despite the words Eames rested more of his weight against Arthur and then sealed their lips together, shuddering when Arthur opened his mouth immediately in invitation and brushed his tongue against Eames' own. The ' _m sorry_ ' Arthur mumbled into Eames' mouth just spurred him on.

 

Time froze as their lips danced and their hips rocked, Eames caught up in the building pleasure. He remembered his promise to his friends but pushed the thought aside as he began to lead Arthur backwards towards his bedroom. Arthur followed and fell willingly onto Eames' bed, flushed, sprawled out and smiling beautifully.

 

Eames was just about to crawl on top of him, to tear away their clothing when he remembered the last time he had spoken with Arthur. He remembered the angry drumming and the anguished cry when Arthur hit his fingers. Eames also remembered the conflicted agony in Arthur's eyes when he told Eames: " _I don't want to like you_."

 

Eames couldn't do this. Everything else he had weathered. But finally being with Arthur only to wake up the next morning and have Arthur hate him even more for it was something Eames couldn't survive. Seeing _regret_ on Arthur's face over something Eames desired so deeply would be a dagger to the heart.

 

Instead Eames grabbed Arthur's hips and pulled his keys and phone from his pockets, setting them on the nightstand. Arthur's eyes were hungry as he reached for Eames and tried to pull him down on the bed but Eames could also see that exhaustion was taking over, Arthur's eyes drooping and his movements slow. Carefully Eames tugged the blankets up the bed and wrapped them around Arthur, bundling him up.

 

Before he could step away Arthur caught his hand, their fingers lacing together. Eames couldn't understand why it felt so _perfect_ when this was all so difficult. "Eames," Arthur's voice was soft and sad. "I really am sorry. I've been thinking about what I said all week."

 

As Arthur grew more tired his voice began to slur. Eames sat on the edge of the bed and brushed his free hand through Arthur's hair. "We can talk about it in the morning, alright?" he reassured Arthur, hoping that when they both woke up tomorrow they'd still be willing to have the conversation.

 

"Okay," Arthur murmured and nuzzled Eames' hand before kissing his wrist.

 

Eames felt his heart melt and he leaned forward to kiss Arthur on the forehead. Mere moments later Arthur rolled onto his side as his eyes drifted closed heavily. Shortly after that Arthur's breathing evened out. Eames slowly stood up from the bed, not wanting to wake Arthur. Eames was feeling pretty exhausted himself, the alcohol weighing him down, but there were a few things he needed to do first before he could sleep.

 

First he gulped down a huge glass of water and filled a second one to leave on the bedside table along with a pill in preparation for Arthur's hangover the next morning. After that Eames pulled out a spare duvet and pillow from the closet and set it on his bedroom floor. Then he grabbed Arthur's phone from the table and walked back out into the hallway.

 

Eames forced his eyes to focus as he scrolled through Arthur's contacts until he found a name he recognized and pressed the _Call_ button. Two rings later a familiar voice answered. "Arthur? Where are you?"

 

"Ariadne?" Eames said to confirm.

 

There was a second of silence, and then Ariadne was shouting. "Who the fuck is this? Put Arthur on the phone!"

 

"Please stop yelling," Eames cringed at the noise. "This is Eames. Look, I know I'm probably not your favourite person but my friends found Arthur drunk at a party here on Almira campus and I brought him home."  


"Don't you fucking touch him, do you understand me?" she snapped. Eames could practically imagine her grinding her teeth together.

 

"I have no intention of doing anything to him while we're both this drunk," Eames assured her, which he realized might not be the most reassuring sentence so he continued. "Listen, I really care about him and I'm more interested in proving that rather than indulging. I'd bring him home tonight but he's already asleep and I'm too drunk to drive."

 

Ariadne was silent again and Eames prepared himself for more yelling, but instead he heard a tired sigh. "Thanks for calling," she eventually said. "Yusuf and I were really worried. Get him to call me in the morning, okay?"

 

"Promise," Eames said and then hung up when she did.

 

With that finished Eames visited the washroom and returned to his bedroom. It felt a little awkward changing with Arthur in the room but Eames in his drunken haze decided that Arthur was asleep and it didn't matter. He threw off his shirt and pulled on some sweatpants before rolling up in the duvet so that it was both above and below him to cushion the floorboards beneath him. It only took a few minutes of Eames' muffled attention listening to Arthur's calm breathing before Eames felt his own eyes drooping closed.

 

#

 

Eames woke slowly, head feeling like it was full of barbed wire. He groaned and rolled on his back and grunted in surprise when he noticed a pair of dozy brown eyes looking over the bed down at him. It was light enough in the room for Eames to realize it was sometime in the morning, but it still felt far too early to be awake. "What are you doing on the floor?" Arthur asked quietly, eyebrows knit together in fuzzy confusion.

 

Eames had to force himself to think past his headache for a moment to remember the night before. "I didn't want to take advantage of you," he said.

 

Arthur was silent for a long moment and then pursed his lips. "I wanted you to. I wanted to see how much you wanted me."

 

Annoyance made Eames' headache spike. "I'd rather show you how much I care about you," Eames snapped. "If you just wanted a good fucking then you can find the door on your own." His heart ached at the realization that he was pushing Arthur away, losing his chance. Instead of letting his conflicting emotions show on his face, Eames rolled over onto his other side and pulled his blanket around him tighter. The bed squeaked as Arthur shifted his weight and Eames clenched his eyes closed, preparing to hear soft-padding feet head for the door.

 

Instead he jumped when he felt fingers brush against the short hairs at the back of his neck. Arthur's voice was soft and uncertain. "Come to bed?"

 

Eames looked over his shoulder and studied Arthur's sad face leaning over the edge of the bed for a moment. Then Eames stood up and slowly slid under the blankets after Arthur shuffled backwards to make room for him. Eames wasn't sure what he was allowed to do, what Arthur wanted, where their boundaries were after all of this. "Arthur..." he began nervously, but Arthur was already rolling over onto his other side. Without a word, Arthur reached back and found Eames' hand, pulling him closer until Eames spooned Arthur from behind.

 

"Is this okay?"

 

Arthur's voice actually trembled as he asked the question, and instinctively Eames hugged him a little tighter. "Yeah. Let's sleep more though," he added as he nosed affectionately at the back of Arthur's neck. Arthur nodded his agreement and neither of them felt the need to say anything else as they enjoyed their shared embrace until sleep took them again.


	5. Chapter 5

Eames nudged the scrambled eggs onto two plates beside the toast and then walked the plates to the living room. Arthur looked up over the back of the couch to watch him approach. His face was still very pale with dark smudges under his eyes but Eames doubted he himself looked any better. Both of them were still horribly hung-over to the point that painkillers wouldn't even touch their headaches.

 

They both knew that they needed to have a serious conversation, but now wasn't the right time. Not with their heads pounding, their eyes stinging and their stomachs unable to decide if they were hungry or nauseous. When they woke up in each other's arms it didn't feel like they needed to say anything. Eames just found Arthur an extra toothbrush he got from his last dentist visit and told Arthur to call his friends to assure them that he was alive as promised.

 

Eames forced himself into the kitchen while Arthur locked himself away in the bathroom. Dom and Mal were both gone from the apartment, though Eames didn't know where they might've gone. Not that Eames was unhappy about having a quiet apartment alone with Arthur for a few hours. Eames made toast first, knowing that would be best for their stomachs, and then prepared the eggs for a bit more substance.

 

He could hear Arthur talking on the phone with his friends – Ariadne, Eames assumed. Eames didn't even bother trying to not listen in, and was relieved when he heard Arthur assuring Ariadne that he was fine, that Eames had been a gentleman, and that... Arthur's voice turned quieter and Eames strained to hear... Arthur hoped he might not be back until later in the afternoon. Eames pretended he hadn't heard this when Arthur ended the call and entered the kitchen. He just told Arthur to pour whatever he wanted to drink and get comfortable on the couch.

 

Arthur had grabbed a blanket and bundled up in it, which he was still curled up in when Eames handed off the plate of food. "Thanks," Arthur mumbled. He looked over the food for a moment before taking a tentative bite of toast, cautious of his stomach rebelling.

 

With his headache still pulsing behind his eyes, Eames wasn't at full capacity to feel as nervous as he would've otherwise felt. Maybe he was somewhat reassured by the fact that Arthur had willingly spooned with him for a few hours in Eames' bed. Not bothering to second-guess himself, Eames lifted the blanket just long enough to sneak under and sit beside Arthur on the couch. Their thighs brushed and since Arthur didn't withdraw, Eames didn't either.

 

After a bit of channel-flipping Eames found a movie that they both agreed on. He left it running and turned it to a reasonable volume considering their hangovers. They watched the movie in silence while they ate and although Eames knew that there was a lot they needed to talk about, it didn't feel uncomfortable. When their plates were empty Eames took them quickly to the sink and refilled their glasses of water before returning to the couch.

 

His heart began to stutter a short while after he sat back down on the couch. Arthur had been curled up against the far armrest of the couch, but after a few shy glances, Arthur moved to lean against Eames' side. Eames ended up leaning against his arm rest with an arm wrapped around Arthur's body, holding him close while Arthur lay against him and the rest of the couch. Eames didn't mind when Arthur dozed, merely drawing small circles on his arm in what he hoped was a comforting manner. Eames didn't even realize when he was beginning to drift off as well.

 

Eames woke up when he heard the apartment door clicking closed. Eames looked up and saw Dom and Mal walking towards him cautiously, raising questioning eyebrows. Not wanting to wake Arthur up, Eames pressed a finger to his lips and pointed downward. Dom and Mal were close enough now that they could see Arthur curled up against Eames, asleep under the blanket. Mal smiled and left to their shared bedroom while Dom lingered. "You didn't...?"

 

Eames scowled. "No. We slept. Have a little faith in me," he hissed.

 

"I know, I know," Dom whispered back, holding up his hands in surrender. "Sorry, we'll give you more time alone. Mal and I are going to study at the library; we just came back to grab our laptops."

 

Eames nodded his understanding and relaxed back on the couch, holding Arthur a little closer against his chest. He listened to Dom and Mal whispering to each other as they moved around the apartment and then left. As soon as the door closed behind his two roommates, Eames felt Arthur shifting as he blinked blurry eyes open and looked up at Eames. "Will they judge me for last night?"

 

Eames looked down at him in surprise. "Of course not. We're in college. Making mistakes and getting drunk is what we have a tendency to do; that's why the hangover is there to teach us a lesson."

 

Arthur didn't seem convinced. "What could _you_ possibly be thinking of me? Pushing you away and then getting drunk and forcing myself on you..."

 

"I can't say I really understand your thoughts," Eames admitted, running his fingers through his hair. "But it's not like I'm going to think less of you for last night. I got drunk too; I just didn't make it halfway across town."

 

Arthur blushed and sat up. Eames would've tried to stop him except Arthur only put enough space between them for them both to sit looking at each other, and didn't leave the couch entirely. Eames felt his affection swell when Arthur kept the blanket around his shoulders. "I owe you an explanation."

 

"No you don't," Eames said. "Do I want to understand? Yes. But you don't need to explain yourself to me if you don't want to."

 

Arthur reached over and cupped Eames' face between his warm palms. Not knowing what else to say, Eames merely moaned softly when Arthur leaned forward and pressed a soft kiss to his lips. The kisses they had shared last night had been like fireworks, setting Eames' body aflame. But this was different, what Eames had been dreaming of for the last few weeks. The kiss was chaste and gentle and it had Eames' heart swelling in his chest as he slid his fingers into Arthur's hair and kissed him back.

 

When they pulled apart Arthur met his gaze. "I want to explain," Arthur said seriously. If that was the case, Eames wasn't going to interrupt. He sat back on his heels and Eames let him withdraw in order to focus on their conversation. "I was bullied for most of my childhood by assholes who thought it would be funny to stuff me in my locker because I couldn't fight back, and got a kick out of flirting with me to fluster me when it came out that I was gay."

 

Eames closed his eyes as guilt tore at his heart. "Fuck."

 

"Yeah," Arthur huffed, though he didn't move away and Eames was grateful for that. "So I think it's pretty obvious why I was unimpressed when I first met you. And why I hated you for hanging around expecting me to like you back just because you were a bit nicer to me. I told myself people like that would always be the same and that they weren't worth my time."

 

"Arthur, I'm sorry—"

 

"Then you proved me wrong," Arthur spoke over him, and Eames' eyes flashed open in surprise. "Regardless of your feelings for me, or my rejection, you realized you wanted to change for yourself, and you have. I didn't want to like you because I kept wondering how I could forgive you so easily," Arthur explained, eyes turning downcast. "And I am... I _was_ scared that it was all just a ploy to lure me in like a conquest."

 

Eames swallowed hard and brushed his hand down Arthur's arm, drawing his eyes. "Let me prove otherwise," Eames requested. "I'll be honest; I didn't start with good intentions. But I've never felt this way for anyone else before, and I like who I'm becoming after meeting you. I look forward to seeing you and just being around you."

 

Arthur hesitated, biting his lip. "I'll be busy..." he warned, "I'll have homework and drum corps practices."

 

"And I'll have my football," Eames reminded him. His hand traced up Arthur's arm to cup the column of Arthur's neck, thumb brushing Arthur's jaw tentatively. "I'm not asking you to drop everything for me. I just want a chance to get to know you better and to make you happy if I can."

 

After a moment of consideration Arthur turned his head so that his lips brushed the pad of Eames' thumb. "I think you can." Then Arthur's eyes darkened slightly as he looked up at Eames through his lashes. "Do you want to take me back to bed?"

 

Eames wasn't sure if it was an offer, a question, or a test. Eames decided to answer honestly and hope for the best. "Yes, very much so," he said seriously. "But more than that right now, I want to rest with you on the couch and watch another movie and then take you out to dinner." The memory of Arthur rutting against Eames was still fresh in his mind from last night, but despite Eames' building desire over the last few weeks for Arthur, Eames realized that right now he just wanted to rest with Arthur in his arms. Not to mention the fact that they were both feeling pretty rotten thanks to their hangovers.

 

Arthur hummed thoughtfully and then offered a small smile. "I like you, Eames."

 

"I like you too, Arthur," Eames breathed, caressing Arthur's bottom lip with his thumb. This time he was the one to reel Arthur in for another kiss, brushing their lips together sweetly. Eames loved the way Arthur relaxed and moulded to the shape of Eames' body, wrapping his arms loosely around Eames as their lips locked. The kiss was one of affection and tentative claiming, though Eames recognized the potential for it to turn passionate when they both chose that direction.

 

Eventually Arthur pulled away and requested more painkillers. Eames grabbed the bottle from the washroom and each of them took another one, nursing their headaches. They found another movie to put on in the background even though they ended up chatting through most of it over the next few hours while curled up in the blanket together. They talked about their majors in school, their friends and their hobbies – drum corps and football becoming the predominant topic over time.

 

Before Eames even realized it, he noticed that the sky was beginning to grow dim as the day got late. His stomach growled at the first thought of food and Arthur's stomach grumbled in response. Their eyes met and both of them chuckled. "How about dinner? I could take you to my favourite pub on campus," Eames suggested a bit shyly.

 

"I'm not exactly dressed for it..." Arthur balked, looking down at himself. It wasn't that his clothes weren't acceptable; Arthur had dressed up before going to the party last night. But after their grinding and wandering hands last night, and Arthur sleeping and cuddling in the same clothes all day, the fabric had gotten quite rumpled. Not that Eames minded in the slightest.

 

"I don't think you understand. This pub is specifically for us college kids," Eames laughed. "Many people go in their pyjamas halfway through studying for an exam or something like that. You're almost overdressed."

 

"If you're sure." Arthur still looked uncertain.

 

"I am," Eames insisted. "But if you'd be more comfortable I could drive you back to your residence room to change clothes before we go."

 

Arthur looked like he was considering it but then shook his head. "I'll be fine as long as you don't mind me being in the same clothes as yesterday. And I'm getting too hungry to wait that long anyway."

 

Eames rolled his eyes and crowded into Arthur's personal space, feeling bold as he gently pinned Arthur's back to the couch cushions. Eames' hands snuck beneath Arthur's shirt and skimmed over the warm skin of Arthur's stomach. "If it bothers you so much I'd be happy to remove them for you," Eames smirked.

 

He could feel Arthur shiver beneath him and saw the arousal in Arthur's eyes, though their stomachs interrupted a second time. "Maybe after, Mister Eames," Arthur teased as he pushed lightly at Eames' shoulder, hinting that he wanted to stand up. Eames let him up and Arthur attempted to smooth out his shirt. "I'm just going to grab my things and call Ariadne to let her know I won't be over tonight. Otherwise she'll come hunt you down."

 

"She acts like your mother," Eames teased as he trailed behind Arthur, wanting to grab his phone and wallet from where he had deposited them last night.

 

Arthur snorted. "More like my sister, but it's practically the same. She's protective since we've been best friends since middle school. But ever since she started dating Yusuf he's calmed her down a bit. Anyway, mind if I call...?"

 

"Yeah, no problem," Eames said, stuffing his phone and wallet in his pockets and leaving Arthur alone in the bedroom. He liked how comfortable Arthur acted about walking around Eames' apartment; polite, but still doing what made him feel at home. Eames quickly stepped into the washroom to brush his teeth and try to pat his hair down and then pulled out his phone by the front door.

 

"Eames, you alright?" Dom asked when he answered the phone.

 

"Yeah," Eames said, knowing his smile was probably audible in his tone. "Arthur and I are going out to Gracie's pub to get some dinner. You and Mal don't need to hide out in the library anymore if you want to come home."

 

"How generous of you," Dom chuckled. "Honestly though, we didn't mind. I'm glad you two seem to have figured things out. Have fun tonight."

 

Eames was grinning now, even as Arthur stepped out of Eames' bedroom and raised an eyebrow upon seeing him. "Thanks, you too."

 

"You seem happy," Arthur said as Eames hung up his phone, stepping closer.

 

"How could I not be?" Eames purred as he wound an arm around Arthur's lower back and dipped him slightly, pressing warm kisses up his neck and then catching his lips.

 

Arthur moaned and kissed back, looking a bit dazed when they finally stopped to breathe. "Is this what I have to look forward to?"

 

Eames trembled nervously. "Too much?"

 

Instead of moving away, Arthur cupped the back of Eames' neck and brought their lips back together. This time it was Eames moaning as he held Arthur's body against his own, his heart fluttering madly in his chest. "Not what I'm used to," Arthur said when they paused. "But I like it. I like being held like this by you."

 

Eames hugged Arthur against him as tightly as he dared, breathing Arthur in. "Thank you for giving me another chance."

 

Arthur hugged Eames back, chin resting on Eames' shoulder. "You deserved it." Arthur's stomach decided to make more noise and Eames smiled against Arthur's neck. "Now let's get dinner." Eames was surprised but pleased when Arthur held his hand out invitingly, and Eames didn't need any prompting to lace their fingers together before leading Arthur outside and across campus towards the pub.

 

It was a little loud in the pub when they arrived – as it always was – but Eames requested a quieter booth near the back. As their hands slid apart when they sat on opposite sides of the booth Eames was immediately filled with longing. For weeks he had thought Arthur would never even talk to him, let alone give him this sort of chance despite Eames' obvious feelings and time of self-reflection. Now that Arthur was here, giving Eames this opportunity, Eames only wanted to feel Arthur's body against his own. When Arthur hummed or laughed Eames wanted to feel the vibrations, and soak in Arthur's warmth.

 

"You look a little pained," Arthur commented after the waitress had brought them their cheeseburgers and fries. Although it was obvious by his voice that he was teasing, real concern was visible in Arthur's eyes.

 

Eames leaned back against the booth seat, suddenly feeling self-conscious because really, there was a limit to how corny you could sound in one day. "I'm fine."

 

Arthur's amused smile fell as he glanced around slowly, nervously, before looking back at Eames. "What's wrong? Should I...?"

 

Arthur began to stand up and Eames rushed to catch Arthur's hand, keeping him from leaving. "Arthur, no please, just sit. I promise everything is okay," Eames stumbled over his words trying to explain himself. He decided to throw his pride away if it meant his honesty would make Arthur feel more secure. "I just really miss lying down with you against me, that's all." Eames could feel the heat in his face and he ducked his head, trying to hide his blush.

 

For a long second that felt like a lifetime Arthur was completely silent. Then Arthur snorted, failed to contain himself, and burst out laughing. "You're too much, you know?" Arthur said, brushing away a few stray tears at the corners of his eyes from laughing so hard. "You sound like a cheesy romance novel."

 

"Wouldn't you have needed to read said cheesy romance novel to know I sound like them?" Eames pointed out, trying to cover up his own embarrassment.

 

Surprisingly, Arthur merely gave him a knowing smirk. "No one said I didn't."

 

Eames was startled to laughter as well, and the embarrassing moment fell away unnoticed. Conversation continued more easily as they ate and fought over the bill. In the end Eames paid after accepting Arthur's demand that he be allowed to pay next time – truthfully, Eames was just giddy at hearing Arthur so easily mention a _next time_.

 

"I'll drive you home," Eames offered as they stood from the booth and headed for the door, hand in hand.

 

Arthur didn't argue and together they walked back towards Eames' apartment to get Eames' car from the underground parking garage. Arthur directed Eames to the parking lot for his residence building when they arrived, and gave Eames a sidelong look as he unclipped his seatbelt. "You should walk me to my door."

 

"My pleasure, darling," Eames said, not missing Arthur's shy smile at the pet name before they both exited the car and headed inside.

 

Outside Arthur's door, Arthur turned and leaned his back against the door, looking Eames over. When their eyes met, Arthur released a heavy breath, betraying his nerves. "Would you think less of me if I asked you inside after our first date?"

 

Eames' heartbeat was racing in his ears. "Not at all."

 

Arthur smiled in amusement. "That's just because you want me to invite you in."

 

"True," Eames chuckled, stepping closer so that their chests were pressed together. Eames could feel Arthur's chest in its quick rise and fall, matched by Eames' own. "But if you asked me to leave, I'd do that too. Whatever you choose, I will respect."

 

"Aren't you not supposed to sleep with someone after your first date?" Arthur tried to joke, though it was obvious that he was genuinely feeling uncertain.

 

"Says who?" Eames wondered.

 

Arthur thought about it for a moment. "No one, I guess. Society."

 

Eames pressed a kiss to the corner of Arthur's mouth. "I only care what you're comfortable with."

 

"Well then..." Arthur trailed off and turned around, working the lock and pushing the door open. Before Eames could begin to worry if he was being told to leave, Arthur grabbed the front of his shirt and dragged him inside, locking the door behind them. "Ariadne?" Arthur called out, with no response. "She must still be out with Yusuf, good," Arthur said. He toed off his shoes and Eames copied the action, his nerves bubbling up inside him.

 

"Arthur..." Eames began but Arthur was already walking further into the apartment. Eames trailed behind Arthur until they entered a bedroom he assumed belonged to Arthur. Everything was coloured a crisp blue or gray, with a pile of books on the desk by a laptop organized neatly and everything else in its proper place. Eames could only imagine what Arthur had thought of Eames' messy bedroom this morning when he woke up. Regardless, Eames' main concern was Arthur, who seemed stiff and distant when he sat on the edge of the bed. "What's wrong?"

 

Arthur looked up and then away quickly, weathering his bottom lip. "I haven't... uh, I haven't done this before. I don't want to be a disappointment."

 

Eames stepped closer slowly, not wanting Arthur to feel crowded. When Eames cupped Arthur's jaw and tilted his face up, Arthur met his gaze willingly. Eames swallowed. "Has anyone ever told you how beautiful you are?"

 

Arthur blushed and ducked his head, but Eames caught his smile. "Not really, no."

 

This time Eames waited for Arthur to look up on his own when he was comfortable. Eames was waiting with a warm, affectionate smile of his own. "You're so beautiful." Eames had shared a bed with other boys before, but he knew this would be different. He didn't care if it was awkward or they fumbled. It didn't need to go perfectly. Eames realized that he wasn't actually nervous; he was giddy. "There are no expectations," he assured Arthur. "I just want to be with you. If you want," he added, trying not to put pressure on Arthur.

 

Boldly Arthur's hands held Eames' hips and tugged him a little closer, his eyes dark. "I want."

 

Not needing more reassurance, Eames leaned over Arthur and kissed him deeply. They both leaned into it and Eames quickly found himself breathless as their lips found the perfect angle. While they kissed Eames reached down and caught the hem of Arthur's shirt. They separated just long enough for Eames to remove Arthur's shirt and throw away his own before their lips reconnected.

 

Eames trembled with need when Arthur's warm hands teased over Eames' bare stomach, exploring curiously. Feeling more direct, Eames traced his fingers up from Arthur's stomach to his chest, tweaking both of Arthur's nipples at the same time. Arthur arched in surprise and gasped into the kiss, sending heat racing down Eames' spine to pool in his groin where he felt his cock beginning to swell against his pants.

 

"Let's get more comfortable," Eames suggested even as he moved to hook his hands on Arthur's hips. With a bit of squirming they both managed to move up to the middle of the bed, Arthur spread out on his back while Eames kneeled above him. Eames caught Arthur's lips again and brushed his tongue against Arthur's bottom lip. Slowly Arthur parted his lips in offering and Eames felt a swell of adoration fill his whole body when he dipped his tongue into Arthur's mouth and brushed the roof of Arthur's mouth.

 

As they kissed Arthur's fingers moved across Eames' back, following each rise and dip of his body. And then, before Eames could even prepare himself, Arthur scraped his nails down the column of Eames' spine. With a choked groan Eames arched down and dragged his clothed erection against Arthur, moaning louder when he felt Arthur's own tented pants indicating his own pleasure and excitement.

 

"Fuck," Eames broke away from the kiss to pant, mouthing open-mouthed kisses along Arthur's neck. "Please tell me you have a condom and lube."

 

Arthur nodded but knotted his fingers in Eames' hair, keeping his mouth against Arthur's warm skin. "Bedside table."

 

Eames continued to kiss and suck at Arthur's neck, loving the way Arthur's hips rose against him and his breathing grew short at the attention. He could only wait for so long though with his cock pulsing with desperation, so Eames leaned back and pulled open Arthur's bedside drawer. Inside he found a small packet of condoms and some lube, which he grabbed and set on the bed by Arthur's elbow.

 

Slowly Eames kissed from Arthur's neck down to his chest, sucking one of Arthur's nipples into his mouth just to make Arthur squirm. Arthur groaned and dug his nails into Eames' skin, hips rising with more determination. "Eames, I want to feel you."

 

Eames moved back up to kiss Arthur hard enough for both of them to see stars. Then he trailed kisses down Arthur's chest and stomach and mouthed teasingly at the skin just above the waistband of Arthur's pants. Slowly, giving Arthur a chance to change his mind, Eames popped the button of Arthur's pants. Arthur raised his hips off the bed to make it easier for Eames to peel off his pants and underwear, and Eames wasted no time in stripping off his own clothes so that they were both naked.

 

Knowing what they both wanted, Eames grabbed the lube and coated two fingers as he knelt between Arthur's legs. He could see Arthur blushing as he watched Eames with hooded eyes, and Eames ducked down to nip little love bites onto Arthur's hips. "I've thought about this for a long time," Eames told Arthur openly. "Have you done this to yourself before?" Arthur shook his head quickly and Eames felt excited knowing Arthur was trusting Eames with this. "It'll feel a bit weird at first," he warned. "But tell me if it hurts. I'll go slow."

 

"It's okay, I trust you," Arthur murmured.

 

Eames looked up and their eyes met and they shared a smile. Then Eames turned his attention downward as he pressed one finger slowly into Arthur's body. Immediately Eames groaned at how hot and tight Arthur felt around his finger, but the noise wasn't nearly as loud as Arthur's breathless whine as his hips shifted, first up and away and then down to take Eames' finger further inside his body.

 

Wanting to distract Arthur while he adjusted, Eames leaned down and dragged his tongue along the underside of Arthur's cock. It twitched at the attention and Eames repeated the action, lapping at Arthur's pulsing flesh while Eames worked one and then two fingers in and out of Arthur's ass. Despite it being Arthur's first time it didn't take long to stretch him open, especially with Arthur rocking down on his fingers while Eames fully sucked Arthur's cock into his mouth.

 

"Eames..." Arthur groaned as his heels dug into the mattress, hips canting up. "I can't last if you keep doing – _ah_! That."

 

Eames chuckled and withdrew both his mouth and fingers, ignoring Arthur's bereft whine. With trembling fingers Eames tore open the condom and rolled it onto his cock, using all of his willpower to avoid stroking himself. He was so wound up and aroused that even the touch of his fingers had him hissing as his balls tightened with pleasure, but he wanted to come inside Arthur's body. He wanted them to be joined.

 

Eames grabbed more lube and coated himself liberally, scared of hurting Arthur. He positioned himself with his cock nudging against Arthur's hole but Eames paused, looking up Arthur's body to meet those lovely brown eyes. "I really like you," Eames said, too scared to use heavier words but wanting Arthur to know his feelings, and that this coupling was about far more than just shared physical pleasure. "I want to make you happy."

 

Arthur smiled softly. "You do," he promised. "And I like you too, so get on with it," he added with a bit of a challenge in his tone.

 

The first push into Arthur's body was tight, Eames purposefully going slow until Arthur naturally relaxed around him and let Eames' cock sink into his body. Eames struggled to not come too quickly as he felt Arthur clenching and loosening around him rhythmically, adjusting to the sensation of being so full. It didn't help that Arthur was moaning breathlessly while his cock twitched and dribbled precome on his stomach.

 

Once Eames was fully buried inside Arthur's hole he stilled for a long moment, letting them both gain some control. However, there was nothing Eames could do to hold back when Arthur started to thrust down onto Eames' cock, hinting that he wanted more. Eames angled his weight forward and held himself up with one hand on each side of Arthur's body as he pulled out and thrust back in hard, shuddering as his cock dragged against the burning walls of Arthur's insides.

 

Eames grunted when Arthur reached up to grab his shoulders and drag Eames down until Eames' body was covering the length of Arthur's own. Pleased with this, Arthur hooked his arms around Eames' shoulders to hold him down and then angled up to get Eames' cock moving inside him. Eames easily began to grind against Arthur's ass, slamming his hips hard against Arthur's body. He tried different angles until he heard Arthur's breath hitch, his eyes opening wide. Eames grinned and kissed Arthur's collarbone, repeating his angle to hammer against Arthur's prostate on each thrust.

 

Arthur hiccupped as the air was knocked from his lungs, body moving at a frenzied rhythm in search of his completion. Eames could feel the way Arthur's body was tightening around him, signalling Arthur's building pleasure. And each thrust of Eames' cock through that clenching heat had Eames spiralling closer to his own orgasm. By now he was desperate for it, for their shared release as he held Arthur's body tightly against his own.

 

"Fuck, I—I'm so close," Arthur whispered, eyes clenched closed and lips parted. " _Please_ ," he started to beg, and Eames thrust harder at the simple sound of it, "I—I need, _ah_ , Eames!"

 

It was over in a rush. Arthur bucked violently beneath Eames but remained pinned to the mattress with Eames' weight, writhing in place on Eames' cock as he hit and tumbled over the edge of his climax. Eames could feel Arthur's come spilling between them, hot and sticky, and Arthur's ass began to milk Eames in time with Arthur's hurried heartbeat. It only took a few more thrusts for Eames to feel something break inside him, his spine bowing as he spilled his seed into the condom.

 

"Fuck," Eames groaned when he was finally spent. It took all of his remaining energy to pull out, roll over and collapse onto the bed beside Arthur instead of on top of him. "That was so good." Arthur hummed his agreement and watched with hazy eyes as Eames tied off the condom and walked it over to the trash bin to dispose of it. As Eames walked back to the bed he watched Arthur pull the blankets over him, leaving the edge turned over welcomingly. "How are you feeling?" Eames asked as he lay down next to Arthur and pressed a soft kiss to his lips.

 

"A little sore," Arthur admitted, stretching out his limbs as he yawned widely. "And tired, but really good." Arthur looked dangerously close to falling asleep. "Are you staying over?"

 

"If you'll have me," Eames said shyly, hand resting on Arthur's hip below the blankets.

 

"Don't be stupid," Arthur chided as he rolled over, pressing his back against Eames' side. Taking the hint, Eames moved onto his side and spooned Arthur from behind, hand splayed lovingly across Arthur's stomach. "Goodnight, Eames."

 

Eames pressed a kiss to the back of Arthur's neck. "Sleep well, Arthur."

 

#

 

Eames was sitting in the front row of the bleachers. Although he knew he would get a better view of the drum corps' formations from higher up in the stands, he was unwilling to be so far away from the field. It was early spring but the air was still chilly, and Eames bundled his Crown State blue and white scarf tighter around his neck. Arthur had given it to him as a sort of joke-gift at Christmas, but Eames had made sure to wear it to each one of Arthur's performances he had a chance to come and watch.

 

Football season was over by now, giving Eames a little more free time on the weekends. Which worked out perfectly since the drum corps groups were beginning to prepare for their competitions in late spring. Whenever Eames had the time he would be there listening to Arthur and his group practice. He still experienced a rush of barely-contained energy whenever he listened to the drum corps perform; _especially_ when Arthur did a solo. Eames couldn't help himself; he always took Arthur home and rocked into him demandingly after witnessing one of Arthur's solos.

 

Maybe it was the music, or seeing Arthur in his element and completely _owning_ it. Regardless, Eames didn't really care and Arthur showed no signs of complaining either, digging his nails into Eames' back and pulling him closer each time.

 

The performance had ended and the bleachers were emptying out, crowds dispersing across campus. Eames remained seated where he was, knowing Arthur knew where to find him when he was finished changing out of his uniform and packing his drum away for safekeeping until his next practice. Eames checked his phone for messages and then looked up when he heard shoes approaching on the cement path in front of the bleachers.

 

"How was it?" Arthur asked as he stepped closer.

 

Eames laughed and smiled widely. "You didn't see my jaw dropping from the field?"

 

Arthur gave a self-satisfied smile. "Maybe I like hearing you say it."

 

"Phenomenal," Eames praised immediately, no hesitation in his voice. "You know how much I love hearing your solos."

 

Arthur stopped walking when he was standing purposefully between Eames' spread knees. His eyes dipped down to Eames' crotch knowingly before glancing back up to Eames' eyes. "I thought you said something about dinner and a movie night," Arthur said in amusement. "Ariadne and Yusuf have probably already ordered the pizza by now."

 

Eames groaned and leaned back to get a better view of Arthur's beautiful body. "And Dom and Mal are probably halfway to your apartment. Fuck."

 

"Come on, Mister Eames," Arthur beckoned with an outstretched hand. Eames didn't make Arthur wait before taking his hand in his own and standing by Arthur's side. He hummed happily into Arthur's mouth when Arthur pulled him into a kiss, the meeting of their lips familiar and warm. "I'll make it up to you later," Arthur whispered playfully against Eames' lips when they parted.

 

"Nothing to make up for, darling," Eames kissed Arthur's forehead and squeezed Arthur's hand fondly. "Let's go; we don't want to be late for the movie night and make all our friends come up with outlandish assumptions about how we spend our time alone." He winked.

 

"As if they'd be wrong," Arthur said with a laugh as they headed across the football field towards Eames' car together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! :)

**Author's Note:**

> [My Tumblr](http://onewhositswiththeturtles.tumblr.com/)


End file.
